The Wormy Metamorphosis
by bobbymorris
Summary: This story takes the premiss of Kafka's "The Metamorphosis" and makes one change: instead of transforming into a giant bug, the protagonist becomes a worm, as in the video games. If you've played any of the Worms games, especially Worms Armageddon or Worms World Party, then this story is for you!


**The Wormy Metamorphosis (by Bobby Morris)  
**

I was a normal guy, living in a normal apartment, with a normal job, but then one morning everything changed, when I awoke to find myself transformed into a worm. And I don't mean an earthworm or a tapeworm or anything like that, but a video-game worm, exactly like the ones in the second-generation Worms games developed by Team17. For reasons I will never understand, I had become a real-life Boggy B, over a metre tall and bearing 100 health points of life.

I said, "What the…" and my voice was high and squeaky, just like a worm's. What was I supposed to do? I was too shocked to be shocked, if you know what I mean, so I thought I might as well try to lead a normal life. I walked off my bed and looked around my apartment, surveying the window, the cupboard with my clothes in it, the desk with my laptop on it, and the closed door. I had no need for clothes, I couldn't possibly use my computer, and there was no reason to open the window, so I walked to the door, generating a squeaking sound as I moved.

At the door, I couldn't quite reach the handle, so I performed a backflip which allowed me to open it. This was very satisfying, because it proved I could still perform basic day-to-day tasks.

But it turned out to have been a mistake. My next-door neighbour in the apartment building was another single guy, who had violent tendencies, and at the same time as I opened my door, he opened his.

"WTF?" he cried, referring to me. He was instantly gripped by a primordial urge to destroy me, balling his hands into fists and charging towards me across the landing.

It was at this point that I made a vitally important discovery. I had access to all the weapons and tools in the Intermediate-scheme inventory, and I could deploy them by a simple act of willing. I can't explain how this was physically or physiologically possible, but trust me, it's true.

Just before the geezer could hit me, I dragon-balled him back across the landing. "Hadoken." The blue ball of energy took him completely by surprise, and when he landed, he kept moving, stumbling all the way back into his apartment. It felt good knowing I'd just docked 30 HP off him, but I knew he'd be back on his feet soon, and I decided I needed to block him somehow. I selected a girder, but this was too narrow to be effective, so instead I tossed a petrol bomb at him, which exploded just outside his door, producing a nice bed of flames.

The neighbour was back on his feet now. He was dazed but still determined to get me, but before he could re-emerge onto the landing, he saw the fire. "Shit," he muttered. He looked at me angrily, but he didn't move. He was well and truly trapped.

"Come on then," I said in my squeaky voice. I smirked, but then things took a turn for the worse when he suddenly went bananas and started screaming. I guess the reality of being attacked by a worm in RL had dawned on him. "Help, help!" he yelled. "There's a monster! Help!"

We were on the eighth floor, and there was no doubt in my mind that other residents would hear him and come up (or down) to investigate. I couldn't take on the whole damn complex, so in desperation, I retreated to my apartment, shoving the door shut behind me.

Presently, I heard the voices of other residents on the landing outside, who seemed to be remonstrating with my neighbour over the fire. I strained my ears (figuratively) to listen, and then, as I should've anticipated, the landing's fire alarm started beeping.

It was time to get out of the building. I walked and jumped to my window, whose panes I blew out with the handgun, before back-jumping onto the sill. It was a long way down, but I wasn't acrophobic, so after taking a deep breath, I activated a bungee and let myself go.

XXXXXXXX

There was a car parking area in front of the apartment building, and it was onto this that I landed. After releasing myself from the bungee cord (which immediately vanished) the first thing I became aware of was the sound of a milk float. Evidently the milkman was doing his rounds, and I realised he would be coming this way, because he always delivered to our apartments.

I walked to the gate that opened onto the pavement and looked left and right. To the left I saw the milk float, some distance away, and to the right I saw the bus shelter at which I habitually caught the bus to work in the town centre. That was where I was heading, because damn it, I was determined to carry on as _normal._

The milkman emerged from someone's garden, whistling a tune that might've been composed by Bjørn Lynne. Then I had an idea. I selected the homing missile, placed the X on the milk float, pointed the weapon into the air, and fired. The missile rose several metres and then turned, zooming in a slightly curving trajectory smack bang into the heart of the float. An explosion ensued, accompanied by the smashing of glass bottles and the gushing of milk into the road. The milkman cried out in horror, before rushing over to his vehicle, but before I could proceed to the bus shelter, something distracted me from behind.

The main door to the apartment building had opened, and a young woman was standing there. She gaped when she saw me, and I could tell she was about to scream, so I whipped out my shotgun and blasted her. The shot sent her reeling back into the building, and as I moved closer, a young man appeared, presumably the partner of the woman. Well, what's fair for the goose is fair for the gander; I blasted him with the second shot, and he too was sent back the way he'd come.

Sensing I needed to get a move on, I turned, and was startled to come face to face with the postman, who like the milkman, was doing his round. "Bloody hell," he said when he made eye contact with me. Reflexively, I took out my baseball bat and struck him, sending him flying towards the burning milk float. The power of the bat was extraordinary, but I didn't linger to admire it, instead walking and jumping hurriedly to the bus shelter, wishing I had fast walk available.

XXXXXXXX

The road sloped upwards, but the pavement was smooth, which was convenient. When I reached the shelter, however, I was disappointed to find a middle-aged woman (not an old woman!) sitting on the bench in there. She was blissfully unaware of my presence at the periphery of the shelter, and it was the gap beneath the bench that gave me my idea of how to get rid of her. As quietly as possible, I produced a cluster grenade and rolled it under the bench directly below her, and when it exploded, it sent her flying upwards with incredible force, such that she got knocked out when her head hit the shelter roof. I thought she might be dead, but I intuited that only about 80 HP of damage had been done, so I wasn't yet a killer.

I jumped onto the bench next to the hole the cluster had made, and waited. Presently, a red double-decker bus was cruising into its designated stopping place beside the shelter. I walked off the bench and approached the opening doors, but before I could jump aboard, people were pointing and shouting through the windows. They quickly became hysterical, so I judged I needed to get aboard before they could tell the driver to drive on, but when I reached the entrance, the futility of the whole idea became apparent. The driver, an overweight man, gawped at me before clumsily feeling for the button that closed the doors.

They pissed me off, the driver and all those passengers. This was discrimination of a truly xenophobic nature. But I had a cunning plan, both to punish them _and_ to ride their bus after all. As the doors were folding shut, I hastily released my skunk into the bus, activating its noxious fumes the moment it passed inside. Then I stepped back and watched.

The animal ran up and down the gangway twice before exploding, infecting everyone, both downstairs and upstairs (for its fumes passed through the ceiling). The driver was among the infected, and I was amused to observe as well that some yobs on the upstairs backseat were also afflicted. They were smoking cannabis, the naughty boys, and I grinned when I realised that now they really _had_ inhaled skunk, LOL.

The green-faced driver prepared to drive off, but I wasn't done yet. I activated low gravity, and in a move that must've terrified the green-faced passengers who saw it, I backflipped onto the roof of the bus. I landed with a thud on the metal, and moments later, the vehicle started to move and I was on my way.

XXXXXXXX

I was hoping for a relaxing ride, but we'd barely set off before we were stopped by an annoying set of traffic lights at a T-junction. There was a pole on either side of the road, and at the top of each pole, the red light was beaming. I wasn't having this. I drew my longbow and fired both arrows, smashing first the left and then the right light. "Perfect." It was indeed perfect shooting by me, with no laser sight needed, but it was to no avail because the pesky driver was still waiting for the green! And to make matters worse, a crowd had gathered outside my apartment building to the rear, and they were pointing at me menacingly.

I took action against the threat of the mob, taking advantage of the fact that they were downhill from me. I summoned the napalm strike, and when the fire rained down upon them, spreading all around them, it sent them hopping and bouncing a long way away from me.

On cue, the traffic lights turned green and the bus set off again, and for the sheer hell of it, I fired a mortar shell at the mob. It missed and only made a few tiny potholes in the road ("bummer") but I didn't care.

For the next few minutes, I enjoyed a pleasant ride. I got gawped at by various people (pedestrians, other drivers, people in buildings) but nothing came of that, and I rather enjoyed feeling the wind in my face as we drove along. But then we reached the park stop, and here, we stopped for good. The driver, to say nothing of the passengers, must've been too ill to carry on thanks to the health loss he was suffering, and I think someone had phoned for an ambulance, because I could hear a siren in the distance. Or was it perchance a police siren? Either way, it was time for me to make a move.

I thought it best to hide in the park for a while, and it was my sensation of the wind that gave me the inspiration of how to get there. I waited until the force and direction were right, before backflipping, opening out my parachute, and drifting serenely towards some bushes. It was nicer than riding the bus, and certainly nicer than bungee jumping!

There was a children's play area a stone's throw from the bushes, and beyond that, an open grassy area where people played football. There were children and their parents on the swings and climbing frames now, and even though I landed among the bushes, they all saw me, and their curiosity was roused. To drive them away, I called for air support again – this time, the basic air strike – and when the missiles whooshed down, the happy families all screamed and cowered under the frames and in the tunnels.

I peeped round the bushes to scan the park, and was horrified to see that an old man was out with his dog, and that – OMG – the animal was bounding energetically towards me! It was a vicious-looking creature, a Staffordshire bull terrier I believe, and I wasn't about to let it tear me to pieces. Accordingly, I steeled my nerves, and when it leapt at me – "Shoryuken" – I executed a fire punch, sending it high into the air. It landed on the grass in a heap, and thankfully, the 30 HP were enough to knock it out.

But there was still the matter of the owner, who having seen me strike his pet, was marching towards me waving his fists. I thought, _an eye for an eye,_ and released my sheep, which ran towards him and met him halfway, jumping up at him and exploding right in his torso. The blow, which was approximately twice as damaging as that suffered by his dog, flung him to the ground, where he could only writhe in discomfort.

The commotion of the air strike and the sheep had pretty much ruined my chances of lying low in this park, so I made the snap decision to continue my journey in the most direct way possible. The teleport was no help, because I couldn't _see_ my destination, so I equipped the jet pack, and with my fingers crossed (proverbially of course), I thrust myself into the air and steered myself in the direction of the town centre.

XXXXXXXX

Jet-packing was even more exhilarating than parachute gliding, and as I sailed above the houses and the ant-like people down below, I felt smug about the fact that I hadn't lost any health yet. Quite frankly I should've been freaked out about being a worm, but for some reason, I wasn't. It felt weirdly …normal.

When the office building that I worked in came into view, I realised I'd tempted fate by celebrating my full health, because I didn't have enough fuel to effect a safe landing. I had no choice but to guide myself upwards, such that when the jet pack was exhausted, I would fall with forward momentum which would carry me there. This is precisely what happened, and when I landed on the tarmac at the foot of the building, I lost an outrageous 42 HP. "Ouch."

But this was no time for self-pity. I picked myself up, stepped away from the wall, and surveyed the scene. The building was ten storeys high and I worked on the fifth floor, but I didn't know which windows were those of the open-plan office where I worked as a wage slave. Well, I'd just have to guess.

After a few moments of planning, I settled on my entrance strategy. I placed a small girder against the wall halfway up, and then fired a ninja rope and hoisted myself up there. It took several seconds to swing round and onto the girder, but I made it eventually, and it was only after finishing with the rope that I realised how precarious and exposed my situation was. It was a long way down, for a start, and several metres in front of me was the window-arrayed wall of the neighbouring building, which was also a place of work. The people in my own building couldn't see me, as I was tight against the wall, but people on the other side _could_ see me, and indeed, a few were already looking at me. Some were gawping, some were pointing, and they were increasing in number.

Turning to the wall, I equipped a blowtorch and burned my way inside. I was braced for people, but instead I found myself in the photocopying room, which was empty and which moreover was locked by means of a keypad (whose combination was 123 456). I had my bearings now, but before I could proceed further, the door opened a fraction and then closed again. Someone nearby had evidently heard the noise of the blowtorch and decided to investigate, with the result that news of my presence must now be circulating. Miffed, I returned to the girder to consider my options.

By this stage, I had come to regard human beings as the enemy – the opposing team, if you like. _They_ were out to get _me,_ and _I_ was out to get _them,_ and it was in that spirit that I postponed the task of breaking into my workplace and turned my attention to these onlookers. I took out my bazooka and fired at someone, then someone else, then someone else. The projectiles, launched at maximum speed, all hit their marks, smashing windows, dislodging bricks, and charring the surface. It was jolly good fun. I fired several more, and then switched to grenades, throwing them in through the broken windows. One grenade missed and fell to the ground, and it was when I glanced down to see where it landed that I discovered I'd attracted a small crowd of spectators. The grenade didn't land anywhere near them, but they were almost directly below me, and for that they were about to be punished.

I produced the dynamite and dropped it on them. When it landed in their midst, they didn't realise what it was until it was too late, and then, bang! They were flung outwards like spurts of water from a fountain, landing here there and everywhere, and a large crater was left behind in the ground. Good job.

I turned back to the wall of the neighbouring building and unleashed a fresh flurry of bazooka rockets. I was having a whale of a time, and in my exuberance, I started firing at low speed, to give the rockets parabolic trajectories. Big mistake. The wind was changing direction and strength every 45 seconds or so, and I'd been capitalising on a favourable wind. When it changed, the next rocket I fired came straight back at me, hitting me almost squarely and smacking me off my girder. FFS! When I hit the tarmac, I was mortified to find that I'd suffered 51 HP in damage, which left me on just 7, i.e. at death's door. "Stupid."

People were looking out of many of the windows of my own building, and now a few more appeared on the ground, coming round the corner further ahead. In desperation, I teleported onto the roof of the building, in order to regroup there before making my final stand.

XXXXXXXX

There was a kind of cabin on the roof, so I walked over to this in the hope that it would lead below, but when I reached it, I found the double doors to be padlocked shut. But no bother; I took my battle axe and sheared the chain, gaining access with ease. The cabin, however, was an elevator shaft, and I wasn't inclined to descend it, so I closed the door and wandered back across the roof.

Okay, I thought, I want to go down, so down I'll go. I equipped a pneumatic drill and activated it, and in no time at all, I was dropping into the top floor. I landed in a corridor, and because the drill was still engaged, I carried on down into the ninth floor. Then the eighth. Then the seventh. It was only moments after entering the sixth-floor corridor that the drilling ceased, leaving me one floor above where I wanted to be.

Why was I so determined to reach my desk? Honestly, I couldn't tell you. We all need something to aim for, I suppose, and for me it was this. Maybe on a subconscious level I was just trying to get back to normal, or maybe I had deliberately embarked on a course of action that would give me ample opportunity to use my weapons and play the game, as it were.

So anyway, I needed to descend one flight of stairs before proceeding to my office, so it was to the stairwell that I now headed. I heard footfalls overhead, presumably from people who'd come out to investigate the racket of the drilling, but they didn't concern me.

It was a funny experience going down the stairs, because my underbelly was too big for the steps, and I sort of slithered down. When I emerged into the fifth floor, however, there was nothing funny about the man whom I bumped into. It was my line manager, a man who used to boss me about and who only helped me when he absolutely had to. I'd often fantasized about killing him, and now I had the chance.

"What's this?" he said in his annoying voice. I produced my uzi and emptied it into him, notching up the full 50 HP. He staggered backwards and fell on his backside, and while he was down there in a daze, I dropped a mine on his head. 3, 2, 1, bang; "Revenge." I was thinking of how to finish him off, but when I regarded his almost dead body crumpled up on the carpet, I took pity on him and decided to leave him alone.

I'd been hearing distant sirens ever since the bus ride, so much so that I'd practically stopped noticing them, but now they became meaningful, as I heard a voice outside shout "Go, go, go!" like they do on the telly. My destructive antics had evidently mobilised various military-type people, and with my measly 7 HP, I couldn't possibly hope to defeat them all…

XXXXXXXX

I walked down the corridor that would take me to my office area, and when I reached the corner, I remembered that the door I'd just walked past led into a boardroom. I didn't care for the managers who convened there, partly because they were grossly overpaid and partly because they'd declined to promote me on more than one occasion in the past, so I thought why not let them have it? With a prod, I pushed the door open, whereupon the dozen or so grey-suited men and women around the table stopped mumbling and turned to stare at me. Before anyone could say anything, I took out my special weapon – the holy hand grenade – and lobbed it inside. As I retreated along the corridor, I heard the familiar cry of hallelujah, followed by the loud bang, and cries of anguish from the managers. Put _that_ in the minutes of your meeting, I thought as I walked on.

Now I was approaching the door to my office, but then, all at once, it opened and the building's security goon emerged. He was a burly man who wore a dark uniform, and when he clapped eyes on me, he ordered me to stop. He was unfazed by my appearance, about which he'd probably been briefed, and from the wrestler's stance he adopted, it was clear he meant business.

Then I heard a sound behind me, and when I turned, two armed police officers were there. They repeated the other man's order that I should stop, and they were both pointing their machine guns at me. These were non-Worms weapons, but they would doubtless do more than 7 HP in damage, so turn-based combat wasn't an option here.

I turned back to the security guard, saying to him, "Go away." He shook his head obstinately, but he didn't know what I was cooking, and nor did the cops.

Worms are made to die, and I was no different in that respect. You fight your battle, and you expect to die during the course of it. The battle gives your life meaning, and you relish it from start to finish. The prize is glory, but the purpose is participation. You fight the good fight.

I wasn't bluffing when I told you I was going into that office. With the three tough guys looking on, I donned my kamikaze headband and fired myself through the guard (who was knocked sideways), through the door, and into the open-plan office. I flew past a couple of other people's desks, before finally reaching my own, on which I exploded triumphantly.

Mission accomplished.


End file.
